


Hopelessly Struck

by jokolibroccoli



Category: Frankenstein - Mary Shelley, Victor Frankenstein (2015)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, James McAvoy asked for this, Lots of plot, M/M, Mad Scientists, Period-Typical Homophobia, Slow Burn, idiots to lovers, igorstein, kind of, tw: alcohol abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:14:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26559553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jokolibroccoli/pseuds/jokolibroccoli
Summary: //Blatant authenticity had been his cover for years. A man who openly spoke about his controversial views on life and death and his extraordinary experiments couldn't possibly be hiding anything, could he? If he spoke without hesitation about anything but his romantic and sexual preferences no one would suspect there was anything worth telling about them, right?//Increasingly overwhelmed by his growing affection for Igor, Victor Frankenstein finds himself struggling to keep up the facade of making it all about the science and their work. After one night drunkenly pouring his heart out onto paper – writing a letter never meant to be read – events begin to spiral...– This story begins somewhere after their presentation at the academy, but before the night Igor joins Lorelei at the ball and its plot leads to alternate events to what took place in the movie.Also: As a big fan of both, book and movie canon will at times collide though this story is mainly based on the movie version. –
Relationships: Victor Frankenstein/Igor Strausman
Comments: 9
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Heeey welcome to my contribution to this [tiny and underrated] fandom!  
> Here’s some info about this work:  
> \- there will be sexual content, but I’ll notify you every time so you can skip it if you don’t want to read it  
> \- I’m not really a native speaker (I lived in the US for a while and have plenty of American family but I grew up in Germany and have lived there most of my life) so pls forgive any language issues :^>  
> \- I will probably have to split the plot I had in mind for this in half and make it a series because otherwise this would get too long.  
> -I’m aware that that the term “homosexuality” wasn’t around back then, please ignore the little historical inaccuracy for the sake of my poor brain lmao  
> \- ENJOY AND FEEL FREE TO LET ME KNOW WHAT U THINK IN THE COMMENTS! <3

####  _Look at me,_ Victor screamed. _Please just… turn around and look at me the way you look at her_ , the scientist closed his eyes to force his look off the other man’s backside. Igor, his hands emerged in a distasteful mess of body parts, electric wiring, and half rotten body fluids, didn’t react – how was he supposed to when the screaming had been all in Victor’s head. Never would he dare to verbally utter the thoughts he had for his partner – partner on a strictly professional basis of course.

Victor raised his hands to his face and covered his tired eyes, pushing the palms against his lids until colorful spirals appeared in the darkness of his closed eyes.

“Are you alright, sir?”, Victor was startled by the sound of Igor’s gentle voice, and for someone who had been pleading for the other man to look at him so desperately in his mind, he gasped rather loudly when he removed his hands from his face and his set of blue eyes was met by Igor’s. He felt his face flushing and let out a voiceless chuckle, lazily scratching the back of his head in an attempt to seem relaxed: “Igor–“, he breathed and shut his mouth again for a moment to steady his voice: “how many times–“, “that’s right, s-Victor! Victor, not _sir_ , right–“ Igor rambled and gave him a shy grin: “apologies.”, “We’re–“, “equals, I know, s-Victor.”

 _Equals?_ Igor knew Victor insisted on this point of view, but how could Igor ever see the other man as his _equal_? Victor had given him everything. He had been no one before him, while Victor had been – just what he was now; a brilliant, brilliant scientist, whose lack of social skill was easily made up by the absolute authenticity of his character, by the passion burning in his blue eyes, and the incredible and unique amount of creativity and enthusiasm – not even beginning to speak of his taste and looks. No, it was impossible for Igor to see this raw force of nature, this absolute genius, as even remotely comparable to him, let alone equal.

Victor felt the corners of his mouth curl up to form an amused little smirk. He liked how flustered Igor would get from time to time. The shorter man still seemed overwhelmed with being treated with kindness and respect, and whenever Victor pointed out one of his many assets his cheeks would flush and he’d look away. Funnily enough, Victor had never thought of himself as a kind man and others didn’t seem to think of him that way either.

He was used to scaring people away with his lack of understanding their boundaries or social norms. It was not like he was doing that on purpose, he had always been an odd bird amongst the rest of London’s high society, but he wasn’t complaining about being left alone either. Most people were dull and boring anyway, they were chatty and resentful and judgmental of things they didn’t even understand they had no idea of. But the very worst about having to interact with the rest of society was how everyone constantly had expectations of him he simply had no interest in meeting. His parents had been that way and when he had moved out, the rest of the people had turned out to be just the same.

But not Igor, Igor was calm, and quiet, and gentle. He didn’t demand anything from him and was grateful for what he had to offer. He was curious and brilliant, and overall just a delight to have around. Additionally, even though Victor would never ever admit to this, it charmed his ego that Igor seemed to be in awe of him. The way he listened to everything he had to say and was appreciative of his work gave him an entirely new and overwhelmingly pleasant feeling of maybe not being a disappointment entirely.

Once again Victor caught himself staring and shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. He got up and walked across the room to look over his partner’s shoulder. Almost automatically, his hand found itself placed in the arch of the shorter man’s back and as the latter shivered in surprise Victor smirked and said: “you’ve done enough for tonight, my dear friend. Time for a break.” Victor could tell by the look on Igor’s face that he was considering to protest but before he could start Victor began to speak again: “Your back seems tense. Give it a break, it has a lot of catching up to do." 

Once again, a slight blush spread across Igor's cheeks and he looked away. Talking about the condition of his back obviously made him uncomfortable - how wouldn't it after years and years of abuse and disrespect based on it. "You're making great progress nonetheless,'' Victor added in a clumsy attempt to cheer him up: "your posture more and more brings out what a–", he stopped himself. What was he thinking? He couldn't end the sentence as he wanted to, it would probably scare the other man off.

Men were not to compliment other men like that, not according to society's standards anyway. Despite having grown up in a circus – where many societal rules didn't quite apply as elsewhere – Victor was sure Igor still hadn't been protected of the way the world viewed… men like him.

"It more and more makes you look like a gentleman." he said instead and smiled. The most inauthentic thing he had done towards Igor besides pretending it didn't bother him he was still seeing Lorelei.

It hurt Victor that he had to hide this side of himself from Igor but he couldn't take the risk of losing him. A tiny part of his brain was telling him that it might be okay, that Igor was so far away from society's standards that he wouldn't be bothered by it. He had such a bright mind – surely he would see that there were more significant traits to a person than this. But Victor quickly shook his head to ban this thought from his mind. He would not tell him. It didn't matter and Igor wouldn't care to know. Why would this information be relevant to him anyway?

He let his hand slide off Igor's back, keeping contact with the warm surface for as long as possible, eventually letting his hand fall downwards with a sigh. How he longed for this warmth he had felt beneath his fingertips just seconds ago. How he longed for it to surround him, embrace him till he felt warm and dizzy in a way that he had been looking for in whisky, rum, and all sorts of alcoholic beverages, so that maybe, just maybe it would ease the stinging pain of the cold he’d been carrying within himself ever since that mercilessly snowy night all these years ago. He let out a bitter little snort of laughter and shook his head at his foolish thoughts and clenched the hand that had been resting on Igor’s back to a tight fist. 

“I’ll be going to bed, I’m quite exhausted.” _Would you care to join me?_ Victor turned around and headed for the door quickly. “Actually, Victor–“, at the sound of Igor’s voice Victor let go of the door handle and turned back around. “I was hoping for you to join me –” _Wait what?_ “Excuse me?!”, “– for dinner. You’ve been skipping dinner all week. And most days when I get up, you’re off for your studies at the academy – I have no idea if you even have a breakfast. When you return we go straight to work and then the cycle repeats. I’m feeling quite isolated these days and additionally – I’m worried about you, Victor.”

Victor scoffed: “worried? About me?” he tried his best to sound incredulous but the turmoil in his heart he was trying to cover only made him sound cold and dismissive. “Yes, I feel like you’re isolating yourself, as if you were trying to cope with something, and whatever it may be I don’t believe this is a healthy way of handling it.”, “I am not _isolating_ myself”, Victor hissed in return: “you can’t isolate _yourself_ when you’ve been destined to be isolated from the day you were born.” Without another word, Victor ripped the door open and left the room.

He had no idea why he snapped – Igor was right after all. He had been limiting the amount of time spent together because he was convinced it was better for both of them. But what on earth was he supposed to say? _You’re right Igor, I have been isolating myself, but only because the sight of you makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst and the brilliant things you say don’t deserve to be disregarded as I fail to properly listen because all I can focus on is the movement of your lips and how bad I want to taste them?!_ No, they were both better off if he stayed silent on this.

However, Victor knew he’d never fall asleep if he didn’t get these thoughts out and the thought of another sleepless night in his bed by himself when what his heart desired was just a few steps across the hall yet still so unreachable for him, appeared absolutely unbearable to him. He got up and walked across the room to his desk. In an almost mechanical fashion he got out some sheets of paper and his quill and let himself fall onto the chair in front of his desk. And he started writing. He wrote it all down, everything that was blocking his head, everything Igor-related, everything that was too adventurous for both, his head and to be spoken out loud. As the words found their way onto the paper, the liquid content of the whisky bottle Victor had stored in his desk found its way to Victor’s lips. 

Despite not intending to write anything remotely presentable, let alone anything that was ever going to be presented in any way, he found himself writing in form of a letter. A letter to Igor that would never be read. The more his mind was numbed by the alcohol, the more his heart grew astir.

Drunk on whiskey and emotions he spilled his heart out onto the paper, everything he longed to tell the other man, the gentlest of thoughts followed by more explicit ones, sweetly awkward declarations of love in between even more awkward confessions of his jealousy of Lorelei, sprinkled with the occasional clumsy attempt of scientifically explaining the condition he was in. The result was a multiple pages long, messily written, very Victor-esque manuscript, that its author eventually fell asleep on, face first sunken to the desk.


	2. Chapter 2

He was woken up by a beam of sunlight shining through a gap between his curtains and reflecting on the shiny surface of the whisky bottle, leading to Victor being blinded by the bright light. He moaned in a mix of annoyance and pain and turned away before opening his eyes. He got up from his chair and stretched thoroughly, the wooden seat was obviously not designed for sleeping and he could feel that in his limbs now. Once he was done, he stepped forward to look over the papers he had been sleeping on. They were heavily wrinkled and where his mouth had been pressed to the paper, a little stain of saliva was visible. 

_ Good thing no one is ever going to read these _ , Victor thought to himself. But even more embarrassing than the condition of these sheets was their content. Skimming through the text he almost felt dizzy as the blood was rushing into his head and giving his cheeks a color more than just rosy.  _ I’ll just… burn them _ , Victor thought as he was hastily grabbing the papers and gathering them in a messy stack.  _ Throw them right into the fireplace, first thing when I leave my room. _

He headed for the door and opened it as quietly as possible. Slowly, he tiptoed down the hall, heading for the fireplace in the living room.

“Victor?”, Igor’s voice behind him made him turn around quickly, standing there and staring at the other man in shock. “Igor – good m- I –“, “What are you doing with those papers?”, the question was meant to help Victor out of his loop of stuttering, however it only made it worse: “y-you know, it’s just – they’re just – just, papers, you know–“ Victor could tell by the look on Igor’s face that this “explanation” wasn’t enough. “Just some – some sketches and … and notes! I am supposed to give these to Finnegan when I meet him at the Academy later.” The last sentence came out more fluent, perhaps because it was only half a lie. He was supposed to give papers to Finnegan today. Not these, obviously, but from afar it  _ could _ be them.

“Oh so you’re still going?” Igor asked. “Still going? Of course I’m still – why are you up already anyway?”, “ _ Already _ ? Victor – it’s almost noon.”, “Oh? Oh…”, Victor replied weakly: “Oh well, then there’s no point in me going today anyway, I’m going to put these back into my room.” As he rushed past him, Victor avoided looking at Igor and he didn’t even dare to breathe until he was back in his bedroom, the door falling shut behind him.

Quickly, he stuffed the sheets of the letter into another stack of paper, didn’t even look what it was, priority was hiding them, making them disappear.  _ So what? _ He told himself:  _ Then I’ll stay in today, Finnegan gets his papers tomorrow, I have the opportunity to debunk Igor’s claims from last night, and I’ll just burn the letter tonight when he’s asleep. Simple as that.  _ He straightened his back and took a deep breath before opening the door and making his way to the kitchen.

When he entered the room Igor was already there, wordlessly pouring him a cup of tea. Victor sat down at the table. “Listen, Igor–“, this would be rather difficult, but he had the urge to apologize to Igor after lashing out at him last night: “I apologize for the way I behaved last night. I was in no position to treat you in the way I did.” Igor placed the cup of tea in front of him and before Victor could stop himself he had reached out and placed his hand on the other man’s and looked at him distinctly.

Igor looked back at him in surprise: “thank you for saying that –“ Victor could feel his warm hand tremble slightly underneath his own: “I meant what I said last night. I am genuinely concerned.” Victor tightened his grip on Igor’s hand: “I know. And I apologize for making you feel that way.”, he closed his eyes in an attempt to bring his heart rate to normalize: “and you are right. I have been isolating myself, you have to understand… living with you came with a variety of new… impressions I simply didn’t expect and it takes some time to adjust.”

Igor nodded a little: “I understand. For someone not used to a lot of human company – especially since your former roommate … disappeared – I can imagine it must be quite exhausting. It wasn’t my place to criticize you for it.” He pulled his hand out from underneath Victor’s and Victor had to suppress a disappointed whimper as their hands lost touch.

“Still… I should’ve stayed and explained myself.”

"I doubt you'd ever be capable of suppressing an impulse for that long,'' the other man replied with a slight grin on his face.  _ Oh dearest Igor, you have no idea, _ Victor thought but he didn't say that "you're probably right." He said instead, grinning back to hide his bitterness. At least Igor was joking with him again, so the two of them were alright, at least something that could cheer him up.

While they were sharing what Igor had prepared for lunch – breakfast in Victor’s case – Victor noticed, barely surprised but still a tad frustrated, that his late night writing session had hardly made being with Igor less painful. Igor was talking but Victor’s thoughts had drifted off once more, this time hooked on the shape of Igor’s jaw. Paragraphs and phrases from his letter came to his mind – fantasies that sent a warm shiver down his spine. 

“Victor, are you even listening to me?”, “huh?”, “I said: this is never going to work out.”, “Wait what?”, Igor’s words had pulled him back to reality rather harshly: “What isn’t going to–“, what had he missed? Had Igor been talking about them? Their living situation? Igor sighed a little at Victor’s poor job of paying attention: “the nervous system we experimented on yesterday. For our project we need to keep it fresher. It barely transmitted the electric impulses we put into it, how is it supposed to keep a whole  _ creature  _ alive. We need to improve our technique.”, 

“Oh! Yes, absolutely.” Victor probably sounded more relieved than intended. “We can take a look at it tonight, if you –“ he was interrupted by a rather impatient knock on the door. The two men shared a suspicious look and Victor signed at Igor to back away a little as he made his way to the front door.

It was Finnegan. Victor couldn’t decide whether he was relieved or annoyed by that. When he opened the door the other man harshly shoved him out of the way with his walking cane and entered the apartment uninvitedly.

“I waited for you, Victor. We were supposed to discuss our progress, remember?”, he stalked around the room like England’s most most pretentious deer. Unlike a deer however; his face. Cold and snake-like with piercing eyes and a smug smile on his lips. “Oh I see…”, he said: “This is how you live…” If disgust was a person, it would probably look like Finnegan in this very second. Victor rolled his eyes and closed the door. At the phrasing “ _ our _ progress” he could only scoff in a shockedly amused manner. As if Finnegan would ever lay a hand on a piece of dead human flesh. He was asking himself whether Finnegan would even touch a  _ living  _ human. 

“I apologize”, Victor lied: “We were kind of having a… situation here this morning.” Igor appeared behind him: “Yes, it was terrible.” He continued with an exaggerated nod: “One of our experiments escaped and so far we were unable to catch it... unfortunately.”, “Yes, just thinking of what a chaos a resurrected squirrel could cause… I hope we will find it soon. If you helped us looking perhaps –”, “Just hand me the notes and I will be on my way, I want nothing to do with your... “, his lips curled in disgust at the word: “failures.”

Victor sighed annoyedly and turned to leave for his room: “They’re at my desk, let me get them for you.” he purred with false sweetness and left the room. As he reached the door and pulled it open, Finnegan was behind him again: “How about I join you? I made my way through half the city to get to this dump, the least I deserve is a good talk with my dear  _ business partner _ , don’t I?”, 

“As you wish” Victor sighed with an eyeroll and kneeled down by his desk, going through some stacks of Paper, looking for the one for Finnegan. After a few moments of digging, Victor found it. He got up to Finnegan standing uncomfortably close to him, leaning on his desk. 

“One would expect the offspring of the Frankenstein family to live more elegantly than… this… don’t you think?”, “Avoidance of having to meet anyone’s expectations is what brought me here.”, Victor was more and more failing to hide his annoyance, he handed Finnegan the papers: “And I like it here.”, he gestured at Finnegan to leave the room and followed him: “However, we do have a not-exactly-dead squirrel to catch, you must excuse.”, “Of course,” Finnegan scoffed and headed for the front door: “You think you’re so smart, don’t you, Frankenstein?”, “Please, everybody in the room thinks that.” Victor grinned at Finnegan provocatively, causing the latter to roll his eyes at him and leave the apartment before throwing the door shut.

Igor and Victor shared an amused glance before they couldn’t contain themselves any longer and broke down laughing. “A resurrected squirrel?!”, Igor eventually managed to burst out. “It just came to my mind”, Victor chuckled: “I figured he’d find that distasteful and I wasn’t going to bear with him much longer.” Igor smiled: “That is absolutely understandable, he is a demanding man.”, “Demanding? Horrible is a way better word if you ask me.” Victor grinned. Suddenly he became awfully aware of how close to each other they were standing.   
“You’re right, it is.” Igor grinned back at him before suddenly looking really serious: “I don’t trust him. I’m wondering why you put up with him anyway.” Victor sighed: “He’s the only one willing to fund our experiments, you know that.”

They were directly looking at each other now. As Victor’s icy blue eyes met Igor’s he could see the shorter man’s cheeks flushing with red and he couldn’t help but stare with a slight smile on his face. “All I am saying is”, Igor said slowly and in an unusually husky voice: “That your work is far too brilliant to be even partially credited to him. It all comes from this spectacular mind of yours, and men like him whose only motivation is financial profit will never have a sense or understanding for that.” 

Victor’s heart felt like it was about to explode. He felt like he could hear the blood rushing through his veins, and the feeling made him dizzy. The world around him grew blurry and all he could see clear as day was the face of Igor Straussman standing in front of him, his eyes sparkling with admiration.   


“I’m fine as long as  _ you  _ can understand me, Igor.” he breathed, unsuccessfully attempting to hide how unsteady his voice was. The urge to grab the man in front of him by the waist and fill the already quite limited space between them until their lips met grew more and more irresistible. If nothing changed Victor was sure he wouldn’t be able to contain himself much longer.

It was Igor who broke the tension eventually: “Isn’t your family extremely wealthy?” he asked as he turned away and shakily began clearing the table of dishes. “Can’t you ask them for financial help?”

“They are wealthy indeed, however, they also happen to refuse talking to me unless it is absolutely not avoidable.” Victor looked at Igor: “And that means we are dependant on Finnegan, whether we like it or not. But the faster we work, the less funding we will need.” he tried giving him a cheerful smile: “In other words; Let’s get to work, we can take care of the dishes later.”


	3. Chapter 3

Working was both – a welcome way to get his mind of whatever it was that was going on inside of him, as well as additional torment to his aching heart. He tried to focus less on Igor’s beautiful hands and more on the body parts they were holding, to limit the amount of staring at Igor’s wonderfully soft looking lips and increase the amount of listening to the words that came out of them. He probably was a hopelessly useless partner to work with today but he just couldn’t help it. 

Occasionally passages of the text he had written last night would resurface in his mind with such an intensity he had to look away, yet somehow they managed to make some progress and when they let themselves fall onto the soft cushions of the living room furniture, covered in sweat and all kinds of other remains of their work, they couldn’t say they weren’t pleased with themselves. 

They sat like this for a while, silently taking a moment to rest, before Igor got up eventually “I am going to the bathroom to clean myself, if that’s alright?” Victor nodded: “Take your time, you’ve earned it.” he replied with a smile. Once again blushing, Igor left the room, leaving Victor alone with his thoughts. He kept thinking back to what could – would – have happened if Igor hadn’t turned away.

To the way they were standing so close to each other that they could nearly feel each other’s warmth, without ever touching. How Igor’s eyes had sparkled as he spoke of him… maybe things weren’t as bad as he thought they were, maybe there was hope… His thoughts were cut off by another knock on the door, more gentle and soft than Finnegan’s had been a few hours ago.

Victor got up from his seat and headed for the door before opening it a bit. When he saw who it was he couldn’t help but let out an annoyed sigh. Lorelei was standing in front of him, looking at him with an expression Victor couldn’t quite identify. 

“Igor!”, he called: “Igor, how many times… I don’t want this  _ woman _ in our workplace, our home.”, “Actually, Mister Franken _ steen,  _ I was hoping to have a word with you.”, “With me? I can’t think of anything that we–” The words froze in Victor’s throat as an icy shiver went down his spine. The woman in front of him had pulled a stack of papers from the bag she carried. A stack of paper that looked an awful lot like the one that was supposed to have been burned several hours ago. Victor opened his mouth in an attempt to say something –anything– but after several seconds of silence he just closed it again.

“You might want to ask me to come in.” Victor closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. He sighed: “Yes, sure, go ahead.” he breathed weakly and got out of the way. He desperately hoped Igor hadn’t heard him calling his name so that – whatever Lorelei had to discuss with him – would stay between the two of them. At least for now… If this was how it was going to end, if he was going to lose the man he loved over his own stupidity, he wanted to tell him himself. 

Without another word he lead Lorelei down the hall to his room and closed the door behind them quickly. He stood by the door, facing away from the woman for a few moments, desperately trying to calm his nerves at least to a point where he could speak without automatically ending up either screaming or crying. He held his head in both hands, ruffling his hair while trying to form at least a single calm thought. 

Eventually he turned around to face Lorelei: “Did you read it?” he asked with a quiet but demanding voice. Lorelei nodded. “Where did you get this?” he hissed sharply as he ripped the papers from her hands and showed them into the back pocket of his pants. “A man came by and gave it to me this afternoon, the man from the night of the presentation at the academy – Finnegan.”, “F-Finnegan? But how? Why?”, “He said he took it, thinking you were holding back information about the progress you made but when he saw what it really was he wanted me to read it as… I am referenced in it quite frequently.”

Victor was incapable of coming up with any way to get out of this situation. He didn’t even know what to say: “Listen… Miss, I do not intend in any way to actually give this letter to Igor – in fact – I had intended to burn it in the fireplace this morning, only a few hours after writing it. I couldn’t sleep last night, got drunk, decided to perform a little experiment on myself – that’s it. There’s nothing of–”, “Good Lord, Mister Frankensteen, there is worse things in this world than being a  _ homosexual _ , being a liar for example. I couldn't care less, and I can’t blame you for falling in love with Igor–", "then what do you want from me?" Victor hissed in a sudden wave of frustrated impatience.

"As I was saying – I don't blame you for the feelings you have for him, not even your disfavor for me for that matter, however, a continuation of your work with Igor appears highly inappropriate to me." She looked at Victor with a smile that could have been false empathy or silent triumph, either way it angered him immensely: " _ highly inappropriate? _ " he practically spat the words towards her: "you know what I deem  _ highly inappropriate _ ?" he did his best to keep his voice down which was insanely difficult for him at this point:

"you... swaggering into my home, holding this letter not meant for your eyes and quite obviously removed from my property without my consent, making assumptions about me, and claiming Igor like he's part of your property."

Lorelei closed her eyes, same infuriatingly calm expression as before, and shook her head in a way that Victor was sure was supposed to make him feel belittled.

"If you love him like you think you do –", she opened her eyes to look directly at him: "wouldn't you want him to be happy? Even in the unlikely case of him returning… whatever it is that you feel for him, look at it from a realistic perspective. What  _ men like you  _ do is  _ illegal _ . I might not judge but law is law, and would you really want to take the risk of seeing him hang to fulfill your selfish desire of being with him? Or would you rather have him spend his life with a woman he is very obviously fond of? Wouldn't you want him to have a future?”

At this point, Victor was unable to suppress a sneery scoff. Performing homosexual acts hadn’t been the first crime he committed, and if she kept talking to him like that it wouldn’t be his next, either. He tried not to let Lorelei’s guilt-tripping approach get to him. He had spent most of his life feeling guilty for the way his heart worked, rationally he knew it was nothing he could change, however, when did a rational thought ever actively affect a heart’s matter? He stared back at Lorelei, doing his best to hide what was going on inside of him.

“Quite funny to me how you speak of the future as if it was something you had any concept of when our first conversation showed that this is very clearly not the case.” he said in a toneless voice, forcing an overly sweet smile upon his lips. Lorelei pursed her lips and looked away. “We can talk as much as we want.” she replied: “In the end it’s up to Igor to decide who he stands with. I am leaving for Paris tomorrow morning and I don’t like travelling by myself. I don’t expect to, either.”

She nodded at Victor before heading for the door and leaving the room. Victor hurried after her. Part of him was glad the conversation was over but he had no idea as to what to do next or what to expect. All he knew was that his life was on the brink of falling apart once again and he didn’t know if he was able to take it this time.

Desperately holding onto the unrealistic hope that Igor might still be in the bathroom, he entered the living room, to find that this was not the case.

“Lorelei – What are y-”, “I came here hoping you might join me for dinner? Mister Frankensteen was kind to let me wait here for you.” Igor gave Victor a confused look. The expression on his face must have given away how displeased he was with the situation. Igor ran his fingers through his wet hair, looking quite helpless. “Actually, his name is Frankenstein.” he replied with a slightly confused smile: “And actually, I was looking forward to–”, 

“Oh please, Igor, I have something important to share with you.” the lightheartedness her voice portrayed made Victor furious. How could she walk in here, talk to him like that, and then act towards Igor as if nothing happened?

He clenched his fists behind his back to keep himself from saying or doing anything that would make his situation even more hopeless… if that was even possible. “In that case…”, Igor glanced over at Victor. Latter could tell by the look on Igor’s face that he knew something was up. He would’ve loved to explain himself to him. He  _ deserved _ to explain himself to him before anybody else told him anything they thought they knew. 

Lorelei grabbed Igor by the hand and pulled him towards the front door: “I doubt we will see each other again anytime soon.” She smiled at him coldly and walked out the door, pulling Igor with her. “I won’t be gone for long–”, Igor said reassuringly without losing eye contact: “I promise.”


	4. Chapter 4

The door fell shut and Igor was gone. It was awfully silent in the apartment. Drained of all energy, Victor sank to his knees onto the cold, hard tiles of the living room floor.  _ I promise _ , the words kept resonating in his head. He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry, but all he did was lay on the floor, dead silent, perfectly still.

Was this really going to be the last thing he would hear of him?

Victor knew it was silly, but the way Igor had looked at him when he said those words had made a little part of his brain raise the naive thought that perhaps they could be true. That he would return. How badly he wanted it to be true! But Victor forbid himself to think that way. Life had taught him to distrust those hopeful whispers from an early age.

_ I promise _ . Those very words had been the last that had ever left his beloved brother’s lips.  _ We will be fine, Vic. I promise _ . Then the cold had taken him. Ever since then, Victor had hated promises. Promises inevitably raised expectations. And expectations could only lead to disappointments. Victor had known this ever since the day his brother passed, and today it would be proven true once again.

After a while, his so far motionless body started to shake. Softly at first, just very slightly, his body trembled as warm tears began running down his face, gradually increasing until his entire body was shaken by enormous sobs. Igor would never return. He might have been genuine when he made the promise but that was only because he didn’t know what Victor knew. If he had known, he would have backed away from him in disgust. 

Who could ever love a man like Victor Frankenstein? His parents didn’t, God – if there even was such a thing as God – surely didn’t if one trusted in what his self proclaimed representatives on earth had to say, and Igor didn’t either.

The sobbing continued for a little longer, then, when he felt as if he had run out of tears, he forced himself to get up in a single, mechanical motion, ignoring the dizziness that resulted from the sudden change of position.

That’s when the drinking started. From that point on, the memories of this night were blurry and incomplete. He had drunk so much. So very much that it was actually surprising he lived to see the next day. Some memories had stayed present in his mind but they felt distant and absolutely unrelated to each other.

A thing he did remember, however, was that he had been to Finnegan’s place. He didn't remember how he got there or who let him in, he just remembered Finnegan's arrogant face grinning at him with a kind of amazed disgust. He remembered running up to said face, and he remembered the way his knuckles had filled with a stinging pain when his fist hit its sharp bone structure.

Victor had never been fond of physical violence. An entirely unnecessary waste of energy he would’ve thought on any other day, but now he was desperate and drunk, and so, so hurt, there was barely anything he was thinking right now and if there was it was probably about how surprisingly relieving it felt to punch the smug grin off the other man’s face, mostly because of the satisfying look of Finnegan stumbling backwards and falling, looking up to him with genuine fear in his eyes.

“How dare you?!”, Victor yelled at him, tears returning to his eyes: “You distrust me, steal from me, conspire against me with this… this … this woman, what on earth is it that you want from me?” He threw himself on top of Finnegan and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt: “huh? It can’t be my work because not even you could be dense enough to think I’d lift another finger for you after what you have done to me.” His face was so close to Finnegan’s that his spit spread across the bruising skin as he was yelling. When Finnegan’s guards got to him and pulled him off their employer, the latter got up, straightened his clothes, and the smug grin returned to his face.

“You speak quite boldly for someone I could have arrested and hung by the morning.” he licked a drop of blood off his lips. Victor scoffed. “Well for that you’d have to testify as a witness of my acts, and unless you want to get over here and su–“, “spare the profanity, Frankenstein.” Finnegan’s face tensed up as he walked towards him, slowly and threateningly, and stopped right before him. 

"I will let you leave, for now, but you should make sure that something like this never happens again … next time I won't be this forgiving with you."

In a quick, snake-like motion, his arm sprung forward as he punched Victor in the pit of his stomach. Victor coughed pitifully and tried his best not to gag as he leaned forward. 

“Get him out of my face.” Finnegan breathed and turned away. Struggling for air, Victor lost sight of him as he was dragged down the hall and out of the building, only to be released for a fall to the cold, dusty road. That's where the memory cut off.

Another memory from this night took place once had returned home.

The fact that he got home by himself would have appeared miraculous to him if he had been one to believe in miracles. But he wasn’t so he just appreciated the warmth that welcomed him for a moment. He didn’t know whether he was relieved or disappointed by the fact that he was still very much alive, either way the only thing he wanted was to forget the world for a while. The adrenaline had worn off and so had the initially energizing effect of the alcohol and was replaced by a numbing and seemingly endless fatigue.

However, the thought of returning to his room appeared impossible to him. The warmest sheets couldn’t help with the icy cold loneliness he felt inside of him and all he wanted was to curl up in Igor’s arms. But he was gone. And he would stay gone, no matter how much he drank, no matter how blurry his intoxicated mind might get, this was a fact that wouldn’t leave his conscience, he saw that now. 

The burning sensation of liquor in his stomach could never compare to the sweet and comfy warmth that overcame him when he saw Igor’s smiling face looking up at him, no drunkenness would ever be able to compete with the rush of emotions that overcame him when they touched.

The realization was barely surprising but the pain it inflicted remained the same, so eventually, when Victor did in fact tumble into a bedroom it was not his own. He let himself fall onto Igor’s bed and was hit by yet another wave of sadness, as his inebriated senses were overcome by intense memories of the other man, and once again he started sobbing. 

And that’s when he started hallucinating. He had to be — it was the only possible explanation. It was the most beautiful hallucination Victor had ever had and more lively than anything the experiments with various substances he had conducted on himself had ever given him.

“Victor? What are you – ? I’ve been looking for you everywhere, what happened to you?” the painfully familiar voice sounded so real in his head – it felt as if Igor was in the room with him. 

Victor removed the veil of tears that made it impossible for him to see clearly from his eyes by rubbing them and when they fluttered open he was startled at the sight of someone looking at him through deep blue – and just as deeply concerned looking – eyes. “Wh-Wha–”, Victor shook his head before starting another attempt: “Why are you here?” he asked the –in his mind– definitely alcohol-induced Igor. 

“Why? Me? This is my bedroom! I should be the one asking that!”, as the voice replied Victor felt as if a warm, gentle hand was placed on his forehead before it started running its fingers through his thick brown curls. Victor had many questions, but he was too exhausted to ask so he decided to just let whatever weird trick his mind was playing on him happen.

“You’re not going to have a good time tomorrow, I can tell you that.”, he heard Igor’s massively concerned yet still somewhat amused sounding voice. “Well…”, he babbled with closed eyes: “I’m having a good time now that you’ve shown up so who cares about tomorrow?” The voice chuckled, the hand continued stroking his hair – Victor felt at Peace… suspiciously much at peace.

“Am I dying?”, he mumbled sleepily. “No Victor, you are drunk.” these words were the last he heard before dozing off into a deep, dreamless sleep, and the voice that uttered them belonged - contrary to Victor’s certain belief - to a very real, very concerned, yet still absolutely enchanted Igor Straussman.


	5. Chapter 5

When Victor woke up sometime around noon the next day, his head felt like somebody had driven a screw through his skull and right into his brain. He groaned and raised his hand to his temple as he sat up in bed.

As soon as he was sitting somewhat vertically, an unbearable dizziness spread across his body and his stomach made a concerning gurgling sound. It was then that the bucket, that really conveniently happened to be by the bedside, came in handy.

He grabbed it as quickly as possible – not a second too early – because as soon as he had placed it in his lap, he started gagging and eventually threw up into it. The excessive consumption of alcohol during the past days had taken its toll on him – he felt awful. Besides the alcohol related issues, his entire body felt bruised and sore, as if – well, as if he had been violently dragged out of a building and thrown into the street.

After involuntarily getting an overview of all his physical troubles, Victor tried focusing on remembering what exactly had happened last night. But it was pointless: Anything he came up with didn’t make sense to him at all and the thinking only increased the immense pain in his head. He buried his face in his hands, letting out another groan, louder and more frustrated sounding, before shakingly trying to get up. 

At first, he fell back onto the bed immediately. Everything was very blurry – the drunkenness still hadn’t worn off completely – and even the slightest movement made him want to throw up again. After another, slightly more successful attempt of standing up, he had to give his body a moment to adjust to the situation of having to carry its own weight, and when he felt steady enough to move he made his way to the door in very slow, very careful steps. 

When he opened the door, he was greeted by the clanking sound of dishes being moved. He froze. There was no one but him supposed to be here, so who was moving the dishes? Carefully, Victor crept down the hall and towards the kitchen, as quiet as his damaged body allowed him to be. When he peeked around the corner and into the kitchen, his heart skipped a beat at the sight presented to him. 

The other man was facing away from him, yet Victor could identify him in a heartbeat.

He must have gasped or made any other kind of sound, or maybe the other man just somehow sensed his presence, either way the man in the kitchen turned around to face him.

“You’re up. Good. How are you feeling?” Igor brushed a strand of hair out of his face and looked at Victor with an empathetic smile. “You are here.” Victor replied, entirely ignoring Igor’s question. “You are  _ really _ here.” a wide smile replaced the tense frown that had been on his face just seconds earlier, and for a moment Victor forgot about his bad physical condition and fell rather than ran towards Igor, practically throwing himself against him into a tight, warm hug. 

The shorter man, obviously overwhelmed by the unexpected impact, stumbled backwards against the kitchen table, confusedly returning the hug. “Of course I am here, where else would I be?” Victor didn’t know what he had expected – to be pushed away, to be hugged quickly and then shoved aside, to be ignored entirely – but he definitely didn’t expect hearing Igor’s confused question being stuttered into his ear, as the latter returned the embrace. 

Victor backed away a little to look at the other man. 

“Didn’t Lorelei tell you -“

“she did.”

“...she did.”

“Yes, of course she did, that’s why we had dinner after all.” Igor shook his head in bewilderment of Victor’s strange behavior and let go of him to pour him a glass of water.

Victor didn’t know what to say. She had told him everything, yet he was here and not even remotely different than before. He let himself fall onto the next best chair at the table and watched as the other man he placed the drink on the table and sat down across from him. “And you’re still–“, Victor began once more.

“Of course I am, don’t be silly, Victor. What would I want in Paris?”, he let out a little laugh, that didn’t exactly sound amused at all: “When Lorelei told me that she was leaving to go back to ballet dancing in Paris I was quite shocked, of course, but joining her was never an option.”

Victor quickly grabbed the water and took a few sips in order to keep his expression under control. He swallowed, desperately trying to not give away how absolutely confused he was by what Igor was saying, and lowered the glass to ask: “And that’s all she told you?”

“Yes, what else would she have told me?”

Victor suppressed a relieved laugh: “uh, I don’t know, that’s just exactly what she told me, and I’d expected she might give you more information." Victor hated lying to his face, but what else was he supposed to do? Life had given him the unexpected chance to confess to him in his own pace and he definitely wouldn't rush into it. 

Igor shook his head and shrugged: "just that she was going back to Paris where she grew up and that it had to be right now because the offer she was given runs out this week, and that I should join her if I loved her.", "And?", "well I'm still here, am I not?"

Victor nearly choked on the water he continuously sipped on to have something else to focus on than the irresistible details of Igor's face and the hurricane of feelings inside of him. "So you don't love her?" he asked, trying to sound very casual and probably failing miserably. 

"I thought I did. I really thought so." Igor replied in a surprisingly calm tone: "and who could blame me? She was the first person to ever show me kindness. To show empathy and genuine interest for me. When I was in the Circus – she was the only light in my life. To someone who is a total stranger to love, the slightest gesture of affection – or merely the absence of cruelty in fact – can feel like the most romantic thing."

He looked at Victor for a second but looked away quickly: "but then I got out of the circus – or better:  _ you _ got me out of there – and it became apparent to me that I had mistaken gratitude for love. Besides … her interest in me may have sparked once I was no longer a nameless hunchback, but where had it been when I still was one? She showed me kindness, however, she failed to see whatever she sees in me now and it makes me wonder: if it hadn't been for you seeing me  _ despite _ my condition, wouldn't she still see said nameless hunchback in me today?"

Igor looked down at his hands with a slight smile on his face as he continued speaking: "There is so much I realized ever since I've seen the world outside the circus. One of those realizations was that love is so, so much more mind blowing than anything I have ever felt for Lorelei. That it's an unbreakable force that strikes you with such an intensity that there is nothing you can do but helplessly watch as it turns your entire life upside down. It's a force of nature–" He avoided looking at Victor as he spoke: "–like a lightning, if you will."

Victor was absolutely speechless – a whole new experience for the usually eloquent and talkative man. Generally – it was quite an unusual situation to have a conversation where Igor did most of the talking, usually it was him listening to Victor's seemingly endless rants – occasionally throwing in a sentence or two. 

Victor bit his lip and scratched the back of his head: "sounds like you're no longer a  _ stranger to love _ ." he eventually said. Despite Igor still avoiding to look at him, Victor could see his cheeks flush with red. "Either way –" Igor eventually said: "back to the original question: what would I want in Paris when I know exactly that here is where I belong?", "They supposedly have good food down there." Victor replied with a smirk, raising a little laugh from Igor.

To Victor's delight, it sounded genuine and lighthearted, filling his heart with a cozy warmth that made his entire body tingle. He looked up from his hands he'd been staring at in the same fashion as Igor, only to find that the latter had done the same. Their eyes met, for a longer time at last, and Victor could feel the blood rush into his face. 

In a sudden impulse, he stood up from his chair, tipping it over by accident, causing it to hit the floor with a bang. They let it happen. Igor had gotten up as well right when Victor had and now they stood there – across from each other, the wooden table between them – staring at each other in inexplicable fascination. The air around them was filled with unspoken words, and so was Victor's head. So many words in fact, that it was impossible for him to choose which to use – so he decided not to use any at all.

In a fierce motion, he started making his way around the table, however, he only made it halfway, then he was met by Igor. Before he knew what he was doing, he found his hands placed on the other man's waist, pulling him towards him firmly. Igor let out a surprised gasp, only to find his slightly parted lips covered by Victor's. The moment their lips met was probably the first in his life where Victor's mind was totally blank and he let his heart take over entirely.

He tightened his grab on Igor's torso as he deepened the kiss, desperately trying to get closer. When the first moment of shock was overcome, he felt Igor's arms around his neck and his hands in his hair, and a warm shiver went down his spine. No matter what Victor had imagined before – this was better.

The countless daydreams about Igor and his lips, about his body pressed to his, the thoughts of his beautiful hands touching him – nothing could possibly measure up to what it actually felt like. It cost Victor immense amounts of self control not to rush into anything that would overwhelm the other man, he had waited for what felt like ages for something that was practically irresistible and now that he had it, he never wanted it to stop. He ran his hands up and down Igor's back, clinging to the fabric of his vest desperately as if he was afraid that if he didn't hold tight enough he might vanish – too good to be true.

Victor placed his hands back on the sides of Igor's torso, gently pushing him towards the table so he could lean himself against him. His body was weakened enough by itself – the rush of endorphins in its veins made his legs shake and his head feel dizzy.

Hungry for more, he practically threw himself against the other man, covering his mouth in sloppy kisses. 

In a moment of carelessness, their teeth met with an unpleasant clinking sound, leading Victor to pull his head back slightly "sorry for that" he breathed weakly. Igor, obviously out of breath, closed his eyes, cheeks flushed with red: "it's okay –" he whispered: "just get back here" Victor couldn't help but smile widely as their lips were reunited. His mind still couldn't grasp that this was actually happening.

No matter how much they enjoyed the kiss – eventually their lips had to part again, and when they did, Victor closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against Igor's, framing his face with his hands. They stood like this for a while, each of them trying to process what had happened and to regain the ability to speak. Unsurprisingly, it was Victor who spoke first. "At second thought–", he whispered in a husky voice: "Who needs good food when you can have this instead?" 


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the day went by quite uneventfully in comparison to the previous one, after their sudden physical encounter Victor and Igor spent their hours resting and trying to process what beautiful secret they shared from this day on.

Neither of them talked much and the atmosphere was not necessarily awkward but still not exactly relaxed either.

Victor had a hard time trying to find a way to express what he was feeling – not different from any other day, basically – but still, as the amount of emotions in him increased, so did the struggle of dealing with them.

There was so much he wanted to say, words he never would have thought of genuinely uttering towards anyone, yet he lacked the strength to get them out, especially since what had happened with the written version of those words.

He had never really been with anyone, in a way that was rooted in mutual appreciation for each other. His deceased roommate – the other Igor – had known of Victor's preferences and occasionally they had taken care of each other’s physical desires, typically drunk or high on another substance, but it had never been on an emotional basis and that had been clear from the day it started. 

Whatever it was that had started today it was entirely different. Of course, Victor couldn't deny that his desire for Igor was partially sexual – Igor was a strikingly handsome man and the thought of physical intimacy with him did inexplicable things to Victor – yet his attraction to the other man was so much more than physical. 

Besides all of Igor's physical assets that left Victor daydreaming and craving for his touch, an at least equally big part of Victor's thoughts was occupied by the brilliant, beautiful mind of Igor's. His extraordinarily fast way of taking in information and developing ideas, suggestions, and plans based on them, his calm and rational personality that contrasted Victor’s impulsive and expressional one in the most beautiful way, his pure admiration for knowledge and scientific progress on one hand and art and elegance on the other – Igor was so different from anyone Victor had ever met, and reducing his need for his presence in his life to merely his sex drive would be a vast understatement, yet it was still undeniably present.

Victor hoped that Igor would register his oddly quiet behavior as an aftereffect of last night’s alcohol abuse, so he wouldn’t project it onto himself or regret what happened in the kitchen earlier. They were sitting in the living room, Victor on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, a cup of tea in his hands, Igor across from him in an armchair, face hidden behind his sketchbook, the sound of a pencil scratching across the paper filling the room in a cozy kind of way. Igor had a cup of tea as well, though Victor was sure he had forgotten about it, as it was sitting on the table in front of them and had stopped steaming a while ago. 

If he hadn’t been so comfortable and afraid that him getting up would disturb Igor, he had gotten up to get his sketchbook and a pencil as well. The scene he was witnessing radiated such warmth, Victor felt the need to capture it on paper so whenever the cold returned to his heart and mind, he could look at it to make sure that it would never capture him entirely, that he wouldn’t be swallowed by it like his brother had been. 

Victor had thought about drawing Igor before. Many times in fact. Not only the romantic in him longed for it, the scientist in him did as well. Such perfectly imperfect anatomy, the progress the muscles in his back had made since they had met, such extraordinarily sharp and clear edges; drawing Igor would be both; a scientific study as well as a piece of art.

Igor cleared his throat. His face had appeared from behind the sketchbook he was holding and he was looking right at him: “What is it, Victor?”, “huh?” Victor replied and blinked as if he had just woken up. “You’re staring.” Igor replied with a slight smile on his lips. “Am I?” Victor could feel himself blush as the other man nodded slightly. “So what were you staring at?”, “just the most extraordinary creation I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” Now it was Igor’s turn to blush, and as he did so he looked down at his sketchbook again.

Grinning triumphantly, Victor leaned back in his seat and took a sip of his tea. A few more minutes passed, Igor kept drawing, and Victor kept staring, slowly but surely getting restless by the inactivity. As much as he enjoyed watching the other man, he had spent the past weeks doing just that and he was a man of action. 

Additionally, there was something about the way Igor had raised the pencil to his mouth, slightly nibbling on the back of it, his lips parted and irresistible looking as always, that put his mind to something way different than sitting across from each other, several meters apart and silent. 

“About earlier–“, Victor started and licked his lips. Igor looked up, face even redder than before. They hadn’t really talked about the kiss after it happened. Igor had excused himself to his room for a moment, and Victor had curled up on the couch. A moment later Igor had joined him, bringing tea and his sketchbook, and ever since they had been sitting like they did now. 

“it wasn’t just an act of impulse, you know that, don’t you?”, he finished the sentence. Igor closed his notebook and placed the drawing utensils on the table in front of him, focusing his eyes on them like it was of biggest importance that they were positioned in the most accurate way. He cleared his throat: “I had hoped it wasn’t.” He replied without looking up. 

“If it had been it would have happened weeks ago already.” Victor said, slowly leaning forward and placing his cup next to Igor’s. Their eyes met as Igor carefully looked up. “Today I just couldn’t contain myself any longer. I was so close to losing you, I –“ his voice trailed off as he felt Igor’s hand on his own. “What I told you this morning… about love –“, Igor’s voice was low and a little unsteady. Suddenly, it dawned on Victor why Igor kept looking away when they talked, as the other man looked at him distinctly, pupils dilated. 

“You swirled into my life – unexpected and chaotic like a storm – and turned everything upside down, and as it’s the nature of a storm you brought lightening –“ Igor raised a shaky hand as he spoke and placed it on Victor’s cheek gentility. “– and I’m afraid I’ve been hopelessly struck.”

Victor gasped voicelessly and felt his eyes tearing up. He closed them and leaned against Igor’s touch longingly.

“I– I love you, Victor.” As the words left Igor’s mouth, Victor’s eyes fluttered back open, tears running down his face. “Oh, dearest Igor–“, he breathed weakly: “oh, and how I love _you_. I never thought this was an emotion I was capable of experiencing but–“, he leaned his forehead against Igor’s so fiercely, it almost hurt as they met: “I love you.” he whispered as he leaned in closer, practically laying on the coffee table between them: “I love you. I love you.” 

He couldn’t remember when the words stopped being said out loud and started being expressed by warm, gentle kisses. Victor overcame the barrier that was the coffee table, teacups falling over with a clinking sound, spilling tea across the wooden surface. He arrived on the other side, framing Igor’s face with both of his hands, torn between pushing him backwards with his increasingly fierceful kisses and pulling him closer, eventually ending up on the floor, pulling the other man out of his chair and on top of him. 

Igor let out a surprised little gasp as Victor pulled him into his arms and slid his hand up into his soft hair, holding onto it as the kiss deepened.

As soon as he felt Igor's body against his own, he rolled the two of them over so he was on top. Victor Frankenstein was an impatient man and he had waited so long. Now his hands couldn't decide where they wanted to be first, on Igor's hips, slid under his shirt, in his hair, every bit of the other man's body felt exciting and special, and he would claim it centimeter by centimeter, until Igor could feel his love with every cell of his body.

**– somewhat sexually explicit content. If you don’t feel comfortable reading it, skip right ahead to chapter 7. The following scene is entirely plot irrelevant, so no worries about missing out on anything :^) –**

Victor gasped a bit at the thoughts he was having. Not because he was surprised by them but because he didn’t quite know how to proceed. Having Igor lay underneath him, tightly pressed against the floor, the warmth of his body contrasting the cold of the tiles – the desire inside of him became nearly unbearable… and he was sure Igor could certainly feel that by now.

His lips began making their way away from the other man’s mouth, down to his perfectly shaped jaw, where the tip of his tongue began tracing the sharp edge carefully at first, but enough to make soft little groaning sounds leave Igor’s mouth. Igor’s skin was sweaty yet its salty taste was accompanied by another, rather soapy one, and where the stubbles of facial hair were growing back it felt prickly and rough – Victor loved every bit of it. Soon his tongue was replaced by his lips – eventually by the rest of his mouth, sloppily kissing the perfectly cut outline of Igor’s jawbone, making the latter sigh in timidly expressed delight. 

It dawned on Victor that the poor man probably was entirely tough starved – that the most gentle touches he had ever received were quite possibly the ones his mouth was providing right now.

Motivated by that thought, he began kissing down to the crook of the other man’s neck, sucking the skin, nibbling, claiming. Making sure that Igor could feel the way they belonged together – and leaving marks that would tell anyone who looked close enough. 

While his mouth was closely examining Igor’s neck, Victor’s hands found their way underneath his shirt, caressing the skin, digging his fingertips into it, tracing the outlines of bones and muscles. Fascinated by the other man’s body he had to actively keep himself from naming each part his fingers traced, sometimes murmuring one of them against the soft skin his lips were caressing. To his delight it got increasingly noticeable to him that Igor seemed to greatly enjoy the procedure. The fabric separating them appeared too thick, too hard, too tight around their pelvic area. 

In a sudden wave of impatience, Victor ripped open the other man’s shirt, sending buttons flying across the room, before pinning down Igor’s wrists with his hands. Igor gasped audibly, looking at him with a mix of embarrassment and arousal, cheeks flushed, lips swollen and pink, pupils dilated widely. This sight made it nearly impossible for Victor to proceed carefully, yet he knew he had to contain himself and hold back not to overwhelm Igor entirely.

They sat like this for several moments, staring at each other in delighted disbelief, Victor waiting for the other man to let him know he was okay with what was bound to happen. He moved his hips slightly, the change in position raising a soft moan from Igor as their lower bodies brushed against each other. Victor bit his lip and chuckled, looking down at the man beneath him in lustful amazement.

“Victor–“, the way Igor breathed the name sent a pleasant shiver down his spine and he nodded slightly as speaking appeared impossible. “I–“, “do you want me to stop?”, Victor asked, regaining his ability to speak through a layer of concern. To his relief Igor shook his head “– it’s just… I have never –“ a slight smile spread across Victor's face as Igor's face reddened. "Well surely you have touched yourself –“ a sheepish nod from Igor: “it’s just – no one – I mean–“,

Victor licked his lips and leaned in to kiss Igor’s collarbone before looking up at him with a smirk: “You mean no one has ever touched the masterpiece that is your body? No one has ever made you feel what you do to them when you look like that?” Victor mumbled against Igor’s pale skin, tracing it with kisses all the way up to his mouth to reunite their lips in a longing, passionate kiss.

“That’s because you’re mine.” He breathed as their lips eventually parted again. He was still holding tightly onto the other man’s wrists, pinning them to the floor tiles effortlessly. “Mine.”, he repeated, this time groaning the word into Igor’s ear. The innocence in Igor’s widened eyes was what lead him to the decision that for tonight he would go easy on Igor – gently introduce him to the pleasures they could share. What Victor desired may have involved rough touches, bruises, scratches, hot and sweaty skin against skin, claiming Igor in a way that would leave him unable to move in the morning – but he would suppress those urges – spare them for later perhaps. 

He felt as if Igor might rather be in need of something more gentle, something that made him feel appreciated, loved, that would leave him moan with pleasure – fill him up with endorphins till he started to shake, positively overwhelming him with emotion. Aroused by the sole thought of hearing Igor’s voice moan his name he let go of the other man’s wrists and slid his hands down his torso instead. 

Playfully he slid his fingertips beneath the waistband of Igor’s pants – grinning triumphantly at the way the latter gasped and slightly trembled under his touch. 

As Victor fumbled with fabric and buttons, his hands shaky and useless in anticipation, he continued kissing the pale skin of Igor’s torso, mumbling against the surface in between nibs. “You have no idea what you’ve been doing to me.” The words were merely breath on Igor’s skin, the ghost of a voice, but he was sure Igor understood every single one of them clear as day.

“I’ve been dying to touch you, to make you mine in every way.” His thumb was now circling Igor’s newly exposed hipbone, leaving his breath hitching, his hands eagerly pulling Victor closer by the fabric of his shirt.

A smirk spread across Victor’s lips and he slid his hands around the other man’s body, cupping his behind and giving it a slight squeeze that resulted in a surprised yet pleased sound escaping Igor’s mouth, before whispering into his ear: “Hold onto me, my beautiful man.” When Igor hesitated and wrapped his arms loosely around his neck, Victor nipped at his earlobe and breathed: “Let me take you to bed, the floor is not nearly good enough for you.” 

Igor’s face flushed even more, if that was possible, and he tightened his grip on Victor as the latter got up carefully, pulling the shorter man with him in his arms.

As soon as they found themselves in a somewhat upright position, Igor wrapped his legs around Victor’s torso, groaning at the friction this caused as his groin brushed against the other man’s stomach. 

Dizzy with lust, Victor carried him through the living room, down the hall and into his bedroom, placing him on the bed and as he was pulling away, he took Igor’s pants with him, yanking them down along with his underwear in one smooth motion. 

As he stood by the end of his bed and rid himself of his pants he let his eyes wander across the other man's body – the unbuttoned shirt on his shoulders the only fabric left covering him. He subconsciously licked his lips at the sight in front of him; Igor's scarred yet so beautiful body, toned muscles, smooth porcelain skin, flushed pink in arousal or embarrassment – or both – every last bit of this masterpiece of a man on display for Victor to touch, to feel – to taste – Victor swallowed hard in anticipation.

Igor blushed even more furiously now that he laid there all exposed, Victor's hot gaze on him, taking in every last detail of his body. He shifted slightly as he lifted the sheets to cover at least some of his body – Victor shaking his head as he understood his intentions. 

"Don't you dare, beautiful." Igor froze in his movement and shot the other man a shy, yet questioning look. "I want to see you." Victor's voice was low and thick with lust. Its deep hum was enough to send a shiver down Igor's spine. "I've been dreaming of this since the night we met." 

Igor opened his mouth but couldn't bring himself to say anything, even less so as Victor's pants finally slid down his legs and he stood in front of him in nothing but his shirt and an unbuttoned waistcoat. 

The rest of the night went by in a blissful daze of lustful touches and shared pleasure, Victor crawling on top of him, his lips finding Igor’s in an instant. As they kissed he slowly settled his lower body between the other man’s legs, their now exposed erections brushing against each other, making both men moan into the kiss. 

It wasn’t long until Victor had the other man panting beneath his touch, sweating, grunting, his hips buckling against his touch seemingly by themselves. He smirked at the way Igor seemed to be absolutely helplessly desperate for more of his attention and decided to take it a little further still. He himself was undoubtedly aroused by what he got to experience, by Igor’s wanton little sounds, his reaction to his touch, behavior that – looking back on it the next day – would surely fluster him beyond words, and Victor couldn’t wait to see it. 

Seeing this beautiful young man, his man, who was typically shy and reserved, turn this vocal and needy through his hand on him made Victor want to turn him around, have his way with him, be less gentle in his movements and more claiming – but he didn’t.  _ Another time _ , he told himself, thrilled by the thought that there would be another time alone. 

Instead of giving in to his urge to put his own pleasure first, he began kissing away from Igor’s mouth, down his jaw and neck towards his torso, teasing more delicious sounds from the shorter man with his kisses and the steady stroking of his member. He could feel Igor’s hands slide into his hair, grabbing it, pulling its strands, causing Victor himself to moan against the other’s skin.

He made his way lower and lower on Igor’s torso, teasing at his nipples for a bit, soon abandoning them to trace his tongue down his stomach, over his hip bones, onto his thighs. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured, glancing up at Igor’s reddened face, smirking at the way he was out of breath. “No one has shown this to you before, have they? No one ever touched you in this way, making you desperate for more?” As if to prove his point he increased his touch on Igor by the slightest bit, raising a desperate gasp from the latter. 

“And I am the first one to have you… what a privilege…” Victor continued as he placed hot, intense kisses along the other’s thighs. “I want to make you feel all that you are to me, Igor, I want you to feel what I’ve been longing for ever since we met.” 

They climaxed together soon after, Victor having eventually straddled Igor in a way that allowed him to stroke them both to completion at once, Igor hiding his face in the crook of Victor’s neck in a sudden wave of embarrassment.  
Victor just cleaned them both off with the shirt he was still wearing, tossing it into a corner afterwards and kissing Igor’s forehead gently. A smug grin was on his face as he pushed Igor to lay down and wrapped his arms around him in a protective manner, for once in his life restraining himself from making a cheeky remark. 

“Good night, you most extraordinary of creatures.”

“Good night, Victor dear.” 


	7. Chapter 7

The night they spent was warm and gentle, and full of appreciation for each other's physique. Victor fell asleep holding the other man to his chest tightly, one hand emerged in his soft curls, the other resting in the arch of his back, caressing the pale skin tenderly. His last thought before dozing off into the most relaxing sleep he could remember was dedicated to the future ahead of them and for the first time in his life it crossed his mind that perhaps he was a lucky man after all.

He didn't quite remember what he dreamt that night, all he knew was that he woke up surprisingly well rested and with a warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Igor was still asleep, and the way his breath tickled his neck gave him chills in the most wonderful way.

He pushed his face into the other man's silky curls as he started chuckling softly, helplessly overwhelmed with the feelings inside of him. Never would he have expected feeling this much at peace with himself and the world. Yesterday's problems appeared distant and surprisingly easy to overcome, now that he could be sure he didn't have to do it by himself.

He could feel Igor shiver slightly and starting to move, indicating he was waking up. With a smile, he pulled him tighter into his arms, wrapping himself around him protectively. Igor yawned and giggled slightly, glancing up at him with sleepy eyes. He grabbed one of Victor's hands and gently kissed its bruised knuckles, causing the latter to blush slightly.

"What happened here, by the way?", Igor said, eyeing the bruises his lips had caressed a second ago.

"Minor disagreement with Finnegan." Victor replied and avoided looking at the other man. Igor chuckled a bit in surprise: "you got in a fight?" He placed a gentle hand on the back of Victor's neck, looking at him with a mixture of surprised amusement and concern. Victor nodded sinisterly, the thought of that blond haired, brainless piece of dirt sparked the flame of anger once again. 

"He nearly destroyed everything." he snarled and closed his eyes to take a breath. "The work? I told you he wouldn't have an understanding for any of it, he's–", "not the work –" Victor cut him off in an unexpectedly cold tone. He could feel Igor's body tense up in his arms at the sharpness of his voice and immediately felt sorry for it. "He found out about my feelings – somehow –" he was speaking more calmly now and did his best to hide his anger: "and he told Lorelei about it." He didn't feel up to mentioning the letter. It was unnecessary side information anyway and thinking about it - he felt a slight embarrassment imagining Igor actually reading what he wrote.

"Is that why you –", "I was convinced she was going to tell you about it, that's why I thought I had seen the last of you when you left that night. I couldn't possibly imagine things were going to turn out as they did. I –" Igor looked up at him and once again placed his soft hand on the side of Victor's head, gently stroking his thumb across the rough stubble on his cheek. Victor could really use some shaving.

"Finnegan is a dangerous man, Victor. Having him know about – us –it's a great risk. And knowing him he will use it against us." His voice was calm, yet there was a distinct tone to it, letting Victor know that he was entirely serious. Victor nodded slightly and tightened his grip on the other man's torso: "I know… but what am I supposed to do? Prometheus is all I have ever achieved in my life – I can't just let him go over a silly thing like –", "your own life?", Igor sat up slightly, resting his elbows on Victor's chest.

Igor was right – of course he was – but what was he supposed to do? If he discontinued his work with Finnegan his secret was not to be so secret much longer – if he continued it he'd be under Finnegan's thumb at all times. No matter what he did it would have an immense impact on the life they were leading. His freedom and pride were important to Victor but what good were they if they literally sent him to the gallows and even worse forced him to abandon all of his work, including Prometheus? And what about Igor? He was smart – even brilliant – but Victor felt a great deal of responsibility for the other man and he simply couldn't risk having to leave him to himself. No, he'd stand daily harassment by Finnegan for the rest of eternity if it meant knowing that Igor was safe and by his side.

"And if we ran away?", this obviously not entirely serious suggestion of Igor's was accompanied by a bitter little snort. Victor chuckled and placed a kiss on Igor's temple: "Where would you like to go, dear?" He purred into his ear. Igor looked up at Victor, his head resting on his chest, a curious smile playing among his lips: "the whole world is new to me, wherever you take me I'm bound to be fascinated."

He dragged his index finger along Victor's jawline, eventually placing it on his chin, playing with his facial hair a bit. "France, Denmark, Germany - Berlin perhaps? Prague?" He laughed a sweet little laugh. Victor smiled but the thought stuck with him, there was something about the idea that appeared plausible to him - but he shoved it away to the back of his mind, for future reference.

He yawned and stretched thoroughly, only to wrap his arms back around Igor even tighter than before – causing the other to giggle softly and bury his face in the crook of his neck, returning the hug with a blush. Victor was still overwhelmed by the way the man in his arms was so utterly beautiful – inside and out. The thought of having him by his side, to have found a permanent companion in him, was exciting and promising and so entirely new to him – he almost felt silly and childish for the way he was undoubtedly and undeniably a total fool for the other man.

When they finally made it out of bed noon had already passed and the winter sun was slowly beginning to set. It was Victor who got up first. He walked across the room, gathering his clothes from the floor, and began putting them on. He felt Igor staring at him and a smirk appeared on his face as he turned around to look back at him.

The way Igor blushed instantly and lowered his eyes flattered him immensely and he took the challenge upon himself to get dressed in the slowest and most teasing way possible, cherishing the looks Igor gave him as the greatest appreciation. He could tell by the expression on Igor’s face that he was desperately trying not to stare too obviously, but he caught him eyeing him as he slowly put on underwear and pants. 

Victor chuckled as he put on his shirt. “If you keep looking at me like that, my dear –“, he smirked and paused the process of buttoning: “We will never make it out of bed and into our clothes.” As Igor lowered his eyes shyly Victor made his way back to the bed to lean over the other man to kiss him longingly and sweetly before immediately getting back up and rushing towards the door, picking up his vest in the process.

“But now enough of all this lazing about!” He yelled into the empty living room: “we’ve got work to do!” Igor, who had just gotten up, stood in the door frame watching him while hastily putting on his clothes. He smiled gently at the sight of the other man excitedly gathering the notes that were spread all around the apartment as usual due to Victor’s habit of writing down ideas and thoughts whenever they popped up in his mind and leaving said note right where he took it.

He insisted that it helped him keep track of all of his ideas but Igor was convinced he only did it this way because he was too impatient to keep his notes in chronological order or to even finish one thought properly before getting distracted by the next. But that’s what he was here for now: Victor’s brain was an endless fountain of ideas and inventions and thoughts and creative energy, yet he often lacked the accuracy and calm to pull through with it properly. And that’s where Igor came in: Igor was there for the detail work. To bring order into the chaos Victor left behind.

Igor finished getting dressed by putting on his coat and approached the other man who was facing the big bookshelf in front of his desk, obviously looking for something specific. Carefully he placed a hand on Victor’s shoulder, causing the latter to look at him. “Actually if you don’t mind –“, Igor smiled at the taller man softly: “I’d like to go for a quick walk before we begin our work. I could use some fresh air, besides–“ he slid his hand down Victor’s arm to hold his hand: “I’ll bring something to eat. You haven’t eaten in forever.” Victor opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but then closed it again, shaking his head as if to banish the thought. He smiled purse-lipped: “that’s fine. Just hurry, alright?”

It was not hard to tell that Victor was immensely annoyed by Igor’s request, but Igor really needed to get out for a moment and he was right about Victor not having eaten in a long time. However, knowing that Igor was right didn’t annoy him any less. Igor pressed a short, yet loving, kiss to his lips which Victor returned to Igor’s relief and then left the apartment with the words: “you can start already if you want. I will join you in a bit.” 


End file.
